A Burgundy Afterglow
by Alternate Reality1
Summary: When you pit a grizzly bear against a fish, who comes out on top? A one-shot short piece


**Ten years! I can't believe it - it's been _ten_ years since I last published anything! To be honest I haven't written anything new since, but there are plenty of bits of work that have sat on my computer just gathering dust. Maybe in part thanks to the new series that recently started, I was inspired to take up reading Thunderbirds fanfic again. And then to search through my hoard to see what I had written all those years ago...**

**Anyway, this short piece was actually going to be part of a much longer story, which was sadly never finished. Maybe one day I might find the time and patience to sit and finish that story, but I thought this part would be able to stand on it's own as it's own little story. My first attempt at humour, so be gentle. Please :)**

* * *

"Oh God, I'm going to kill him." Words filled with intent, mumbled with a quiet promise. "I swear, I'm going to really kill him."

Virgil Tracy was not the easiest brother to wind up, but every so often his safety valve would loosen, allowing his anger to steam out. This was one of those times. And, as was usually the case for so many of these times, the cause of his frustration could be only one person.

Punching the button to open his door, Virgil stormed from his bedroom into the hallway – a look of a grizzly bear hunting salmon not far from being an accurate description.

"GORDON! Where the hell is my paint?!" Virgil's voice was gruff and low; very spookily sounding like their father's when he was in a similar mood. However, unlike when their father used that tone, there was no answer to his question. He hit the button to enter Gordon's bedroom, but wasn't pleased to see it was unoccupied. "Damn it!" he muttered, turning to head for his next location to search.

He stormed into the lounge with the full intention of blowing his top, assuming his young red-headed brother would be there. At that particular moment, he didn't even want to think that he shared DNA with such a pain in the ass. He was so focused on his goal he was unaware his father was watching him from behind his desk.

"Virgil?" his father said, a frown forming on his face at his son's hostile body language. "What's wrong?"

Virgil riskily didn't answer, fully prepared to accept his father's annoyance in exchange for finding his brother. None of Jeff Tracy's sons liked to upset their father, being as hard working and dedicated as they were. But there was one thing each Tracy brother (and father) had learned from working in the rescue business.

Sometimes it was necessary to take risks.

Heading downstairs towards the kitchen, Virgil quietly planned his brother's punishment to come. His plans were somewhat scattered however, when said victim wasn't in the kitchen either.

After apologising to his grandmother for almost running into her in his haste to leave, Virgil realised there was one possible place his brother could be – the one place he devoted almost as much love to as he did Thunderbird Four.

But the pool was empty. Uninhabited. Devoid of any Gordon Tracy.

Virgil scratched his head in thought. This was the time to call in backup.

"Virgil to Thunderbird Five," the artistic son called into his wrist comm. Alan quickly answered, and after hearing Virgil turn the air blue with some creative choice of language, he very calmly asked what was wrong.

"Where's Gordon?" Virgil asked, not wishing to clarify the situation. He didn't want Alan to give Gordon any clue of what was coming.

A quick glance at a screen beside him gave Alan his answer, but he hesitated. _"Before I answer that Virg,"_ Alan began tentatively, _"I want to know why you want to know."_

"Believe me Alan, you don't want to get involved. Now just tell me where he is."

Alan knew it was rare Virgil was this upset. Whatever was coming to Gordon, it didn't look pleasant. _"He's… well, he's in Thunderbird One's silo, if you must know."_

"Why did I have to end up here with him? Why _him_?" Virgil muttered, though not quietly enough for Alan to miss.

"_If I remember correctly, it was at 'someone's' suggestion that John should accompany Scott to New York, while 'he' and Gordon handle any emergency calls that come in. I think the words "we'll be okay, we can man Base for a few days" summed it up quite nicely, as signing your own death warrant."_

Virgil sent a death glare at Alan, who displayed the biggest smug grin across the width of his face. As much as Alan was close to his immediate older brother, he wasn't stupid enough to want to be left alone with him on the island for a whole week.

"Oh don't worry, you've got to come down to Earth sometime soon," Virgil warned, smirking.

"_I know,"_ the youngest shrugged, _"but I could always ask Dad for some extra time up here. He won't mind."_

"You could, but you'd only end up giving him a heart attack Al."

The conversation halted as Virgil arrived at Thunderbird One's silo entrance. Entering the required security pass code, the hunter stepped in to inspect the hiding place of the hunted. There was no sign of the aquanaut, but that didn't mean he hadn't expected company.

"All right Alan, where is he?" he whispered, not wanting to give away his own position.

Alan was about to reply when an idea struck him. He had loyalties, and where brothers stood divided he knew whose side he normally stood beside. Turning up the volume, he shouted, _"__HE'S IN THE COCKPIT__!"_

Virgil jumped, and quickly clamped a hand over the watch's speaker to try and muffle the shout. But it was too late.

A scuffle of feet could be heard trying to find a foothold within the mighty aircraft. Virgil heard the whoosh of the hatch opening, and caught a glimpse of Gordon's back as he dashed over the platform back into the lounge.

"Son of a –" Virgil hissed under his breath as he ran for the exit. He knew it would be futile to head for the lounge – Gordon wasn't that suicidal – so he took a guess on Gordon's possible next port of call.

Brains' lab.

Sure enough, Virgil heard the shatter of glass as he arrived at the island's scientific laboratory. He hurriedly punched the button to allow himself entry into the lab, only to be stopped short when he realised the lab was in pitch black. A flick of a switch, a spark of electricity, and the lab was bathed in the striking rays of the fluorescent light overhead; such rays which highlighted the very person Virgil wanted to see.

Ducking behind a clamp and test tube was a very sheepish-looking Gordon Tracy.

"H-hey Virg! Looking for something?" His question was tinted with the smallest hint of dread.

"Oh Gordy, Gordy, Gordy," Virgil strode further into the lab, arms folded. "sometimes you can be so predictable."

The younger Tracy wasn't so easily frightened. "Really? How so?"

Virgil sighed, knowing he really wasn't in the mood for this conversation to be stretched out so much. "Gordon, I know you've taken the burgundy from my case, so just give it back."

"Burgundy? Burgundy what? I have no idea what you're talking about."

Mentally, Virgil was counting to ten. It had been a long week, chaotic with rescue after rescue, and all he wanted to do was paint.

Only, he was alone at home with his pain-in-the-ass little brother.

"Gords, _please_," he whined, almost pleading for some sign of peace, "I'm really not in the mood for this. Please, just hand it back over."

At that Gordon's face shrank into an apologetic grin. "Well, to be honest with you – "

"_Virgil, come in,"_ came the interruption from Virgil's wrist comm.

"Not now Alan!"

"_Virgil, I want to see you in the lounge, now, if you don't mind." _ The sudden realisation that it was their father's voice booming from the watch sent shivers down each brother's spine. _"And I'll want to see you too, Gordon. __**Now**__."_ And with that, their father's face disappeared from the watch face, only to be replaced with Alan's wide grin.

"_Wow, Dad's not pleased with you guys."_

"Gee Al, that's some great deduction you did there!" Gordon sarcastically spat out. Virgil shot an annoyed look over to the red-head.

Virgil gestured towards the door. "Come on, he wants to see _both_ of us," he held out a hand, indicating that Gordon go first. Reluctantly, he did, not without receiving a slap on the back of the head as he passed.

"Ow! What was that for?" Gordon asked, rubbing his head none-too-gently.

"That's only for starters, brother," warned Virgil, a sparkle of promise in his eyes. "I'm not done with you yet."

* * *

Jeff Tracy was often said to have the heart of a lion – loyal, filled with pride, and very protective of his 'pride'. However, that also included being grumpy as hell when provoked in the right way. Countless meetings, mountains of paperwork and deadlines flying in from left, right and centre were only just the start of a bad week. Included in the package had been no less than four major rescues, mechanical failure (in Thunderbird Two, with one of the VTOL jets), and six overworked and underappreciated International Rescue operatives – namely four of his sons, Brains and Tin-Tin.

It came then as little surprise that his sons – more specifically, his usually calm and even-tempered sons – were causing havoc wherever they were. And on an island, it was very hard to ignore.

The door swished open to reveal two of his fine young sons, present at his request. Gordon was the first to step in front of Jeff, his hands behind in his back and his head bowed slightly, as a sign of penitence. Virgil, on the other hand, held his arms by his side, now and again throwing a death glare over in the prankster's direction.

Jeff knew what this was a sign of, and he had been dreading it. As he stared into the eyes of his sons, he took careful heed of the fact they were bloodshot. His boys were tired, but they wouldn't admit it.

"Boys," Jeff began, treading very carefully on his words save an argument break out. "I know this week has been hard – believe me, I understand. And I realise that you all need a break now and then to unwind and relax…" Jeff trailed off mid-speech, watching the reactions on his sons' faces. Neither of them gave anything away. He didn't want to treat them like children any more, and they certainly didn't need the 'it's been a tough week and all' lecture from him _again_. So instead he decided to go for the less tactful approach, and simply dive in at the deep end.

Squeezing his eyes closed, pinching the bridge of his nose and leaning back in his chair, Jeff held his breath and took the plunge head first into his question.

"What happened?"

At first his only answer was silence. Each brother glanced sideways at each other, unsure how to answer having expected their father to rule most of the talking. He cautiously opened his eyes, only to catch Virgil's agitated sigh. Jeff's earlier comments had diffused Virgil's anger somewhat.

"I'm sorry Father," Virgil began, realising he had been wrong to snap. He ran a hand through his hair as the adrenaline rush began to settle. "I guess I shouldn't have snapped like that." He shrugged at Gordon. "Sorry Gords."

"I guess we're all a little on edge," replied the redhead sincerely. "And bored, if I'm honest."

Jeff sighed again, though this time it was because he understood his sons' situation only too clearly. If he was also honest, he would have gladly sent all his sons on a long-overdue vacation. But that was just not practical.

"I know you are Gordon, but that still doesn't give you an excuse to wind your brother up." Jeff looked to his sons once more, each watching him carefully, anticipating his reply – Gordon more so, expecting punishment. It was then Jeff leant forward, fisting his hands and placing them on his desk. "Gordon," he started, and if he had been anyone other than Gordon's father he would have missed the slight wince made at the name. "I want you to take charge of next month's business meetings with the shareholders."

Gordon's jaw dropped open. "What?! Dad, no, I –"

"I want you to travel over to Washington in John's place, seeing as you're 'bored' with being on the island."

Jeff risked a look over to his fourth born. Gordon's face had sunk like the Titanic. His eyes said it all – this was far beyond the level of punishment he expected for his recent pranks.

For one rare moment the young Tracy was speechless – Virgil knew only their father had the talent to achieve that. Then, in a soft, almost choked sound, Gordon replied with his mandatory "Yes, Sir." He silently turned, and sulked out of the door, two sets of eyes following him as he walked away.

Virgil turned to challenge his father's decision, then halted mid-breath when he saw the glint in his father's eye. "What is it, Father?"

Jeff leaned back in his chair, only feeling a tad guilty for making Gordon feel so down. "Oh don't worry Virgil, I'm not punishing him really. I can't blame him for the week we've had. It's his way of… unwinding." Virgil nodded in agreement. "In fact, I think he'll enjoy next month, especially when he finds out a Miss Veronica Silvers will be visiting Washington to give a talk about her new research into sustainable resources from the sea."

Virgil's face lit up with recognition at the name. "The world famous oceanographer?"

"The one and only."

Virgil shook his head. "When are you going to tell him?"

"I'll let him simmer for a few minutes – at least to give you enough time to calm down."

"I'm fine Father, really, I've calmed down now," replied Virgil, his earlier anger having cooled down to a reasonable temperature. "Like you said, I can't blame him either when my patience is running thin."

Jeff smiled and nodded, then watched his elder son as he turned to leave the lounge. Virgil was almost at the doorway when Jeff called to him.

"Virgil?" Virgil turned to look to him. "What was it Gordon did, exactly?"

A small regretful sigh came from Virgil's lips before he answered, feeling a little silly for his outburst now he had time to reflect. "He took one of my expensive paints. A soft burgundy that I wanted to use for my 'Dawn Afterglow' painting I'm working on."

At the mention of the word 'burgundy' a certain memory entered Jeff's mind. He had seen Gordon working on something in his room when he had been heading to his office earlier. Jeff thought he had been mistaken at first – Gordon painting? – but now the memory was creating more questions than answers.

"Why, Father? Do you know something?"

Virgil's question drew him from his thoughts, and Jeff shook his head. "No, just… just curious, that's all." But he knew he had given himself away as a liar before he had said a word. Virgil, with a confused expression, continued his exit from the lounge, a little more curious himself as to what was going on.

It was then Jeff noticed one of his mother's vases was missing from the shelf beside his desk.

"Oh Gordon…"


End file.
